“Pack your bag, Deputy! We’re heading to Shady Belle!” Grant had declared almost cheerily, encouraged to, for once, have an actual chance of catching the outlaw he’d been after for years.

What a fool he’d been.

After three hours in the train station, two hours on a delayed train, and five hours of listening to Gavin miraculously snored through it all, Grant was less than thrilled.

The man currently sat atop a wooden bench digging straight into his ass, every muscle screaming with the torment of stillness. He was too old for this. His back sang the siren song of every grating 42 years of his life.

The train car swayed and jerked as it flew across the empty land. On a particularly harsh curve, a baby who’d been blessedly quiet the greater part of the trip burst into noisy tears as the cart gave a sharp jerk, loud, ugly sobs that seemed impossible for something so tiny. Grant pulled his hat down over his eyes with a dismal groan the moment the first shrill wail rose up from the brat’s mouth. So much for catching a quick nap through the last stretch.

Beside him, Gavin gave a rude snort and his body jolted, with the sudden awakening. This would've been fine and dandy had it not resulted in a sharp elbow driving straight into the sheriff's side.

Grant gave a low grunt and tried not to outwardly wince as he glared over to see his companion blink blearily awake. The deputy rubbed the butt of his palm into his eye before stretching back in a slow yawn, pausing to scratch roughly at the patch of prickly stubble coming in under his jaw - Somehow, the whole display just irked the exhausted sheriff. He had tried for hours to catch some sleep. Needless to say, he hadn’t found any.

“Mornin’, princess.” Grant scoffed ruefully, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

All the sheriff received for his efforts was a groggy groan. Gavin let his head fall back against the wooden bench and allowed his tired eyes to slip closed again, drawing one leg up to rest his foot against his knee and crooking an arm behind his head.

Grant kicked him in the leg.

Gavin jolted forward, apparently already beginning to dose again but the man quickly caught himself and straightened back up with a huff. He snapped his gaze back toward his companion with an irritated scowl twisting his features into an ugly snarl but his sleep hazed eyes blinked dumbly at the rude awakening. Frankly, he looked ridiculous.

“Sleep well I hope.” Grant jibed lightheartedly and let his gaze shift to the window as he spoke, knowing his disinterest would only rile the deputy. A decrepit house swept by on the the desert plain, old and falling apart at the seams. Gray wood fell to rot and sagged in on itself with weary age, drooping like a plant that had been left to the tormentous hands of the blazing sun for too long.

But it was something. If there were houses, they had to be nearing the town.

“Was.” Gavin huffed with an irritated roll of his dark brown eyes. The man didn’t stay mad for too awful long though and soon shifted to follow Grant’s gaze. “Must be getting close.” He commented and the sheriff offered a hum of agreement.

“Hey, Gavin, ‘been meaning to ask.” Grant began, turning his eyes back towards the man. “When that missy brought up this here place,” the sheriff began, pausing to give Gavin a moment to speak for himself but no sign of the deputy’s earlier twitch could be found. “Do you know it?” The man asked casually.

He meant nothing by it. Just thought knowing the town might help out a bit but Gavin jerked his shoulders up loosely. “I used to when I was young. Can’t say I much know it now.” The guy dismissed easily. Nothing worthwhile then. Damn.

“Well, guess we’ll just have to find someone who does when we get there.” Grant remarked and leaned back in his seat.

“Yep.” Gavin agreed. Truly, a stunning conversationalist if Grant had ever met one.

Luckily, it was at that moment the train finally began to slow. The world outside whisked by a little less nauseatingly and the sound of metal squeaking against metal shrieked through the cart. Unfortunately, the lurch of the car slowing to a stuttering halt made up for the nausea inducing streak of color outside swirling past.

Grant couldn’t say he’d ever quite gotten on board with the stunning discoveries of tomorrow. Trusting his life to metal and machinery just didn’t agree with his gut. Give him a living, breathing beast any day. A horse was alive. You could control it. Trust it. A train was a big box of steel and prayer on the wind.

“Looks like we’re here.” Gavin pointed out. The man pulled himself off the bench only to be thrown stumbling forward as the train jerked. He snapped a hand out and caught the edge of the seat just before his feet could fly out from under him before turning to cast a sharp glare over his shoulder as Grant gave an amused chuckle.

“Where would I ever be without you, Deputy?” Grant jested with little malice behind his words. The sheriff gripped the edge of the seat himself and hauled his body up off the torture chamber disguised as a bench. Every aged muscle in his poor body groaned in protest at the sudden motion. Stupid muscles had just been whining about sitting still, now they wanted to fuss about moving. Insatiable.

“Probably exactly where you are right now, Grant.” Gavin shot back as he hauled his own bulky bag out from the over head shelf and let it drop to the floor with a dull thunk.

“Jesus, kid. You hauling horse shit?” Grant snorted as he elbowed his way past the deputy and reached up to find his own bag. It was just some burlap crudely woven together with a few shirts and an extra pair of denim pants shoved in it, but it got the job done.

“Some of us believe in being prepared.” Gavin countered with a distasteful sneer aimed at Grant’s sack. With all that shit, the boy had to be prepared for Christ himself to come prancing up on a fucking pony.

It was probably all pomaded anyway.